


Oh, Boy You've Left Me

by hangthestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusions to Suicidal Ideation, Angst, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, One Shot, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangthestars/pseuds/hangthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't talk about the way Sam died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Boy You've Left Me

They don't talk about the way Sam died.

Cas always thinks he'll eventually start to dream, but they never come. Instead he sleeps next to Dean, waking when the other man rolls over or twitches, listening to him groan or watching him wake with a start. He always holds his breath until he's sure that Dean's eyes are still green.

Dean wakes up in the morning, and they don't talk about the way Sam died.

Cas tends to the bees while Dean cooks. He comes back inside to eggs and bacon, coffee and sliced apples sprinkled with cinnamon. Cas drizzles honey over the apples from the fresh comb he brings inside, and they sit across from each other at a table in the kitchen.

They eat breakfast, and they don't talk about the way Sam died.

Their home is in the middle of nowhere, far away from the Bunker, far away from anyone they know. Cas has learned to garden, and Dean has turned his guns from monsters to game. When Dean is under the Impala's hood, Cas knows he wants to be alone.

The upkeep here takes time. When things break, Dean shows Cas how to fix them and leaves them in his hands. There's always something to make, something to tend, something they need to run out and buy. Their internet connection is weak when it works. 

Some days when they run out of chores, Cas waits until Dean washes the grease from his hands before reaching out to touch. He pulls him into a kiss that starts out in the kitchen and ends in the living room. They make love on the couch, with Dean's legs around Cas's hips and their clothes littered across the carpet.

In the aftermath, when Dean is quiet and coming down from the warmth in his belly, Cas feels like he's losing him, and they still don't talk about the way Sam died.

Cas understands why. Dean won't talk, but Cas can barely bring himself to ask. It had been so quiet that adding words to the memories seems cruel. Sam's death exists in the shake of Dean's hands, the natural downturn of his mouth. Sometimes Cas thinks he can hear it in Dean's chest, in the slow beat of his heart.

If he wanted to go somewhere else and break their isolation, he knows that Dean would follow him, but he can see that Dean's heart isn't in the road anymore. They cured the Mark with Cas's grace, they cured Dean's soul with Sam's life, but Cas watches him now and can't honestly say that Dean has been _saved_.

In the small moments, he can see Dean counting down the minutes of his life. The average man has 71 years. Less for drinking. Less for stress. Less for fear and depression and loss, for bad eating habits and bad sleeping habits. Dean does math in his head that Cas can't track and never seems satisfied. 

Cas adds time when he can. Some days he can only manage seconds, and others he gets Dean to smile and thinks he's managed years. 

He fears that bringing up Sam will take too much time, so they don't talk about the way Sam died.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to whoever gets the lyrical reference. (Hint: It's not classic rock.)


End file.
